Netflix’s spin on one of the most iconic manga series of all time has given us a lot to think about—primarily what makes an adaptation tick, but also how audiences are meant to react on something dear to them undergoing (a possibly shocking) reinterpretation to suit a creative vision. While it is easy to deride it—and the following review doesn’t hold back either—allow us to focus on what makes Death Note a worthwhile addition to the ever-growing list of film adaptations.
Prior to its rebirth as a Netflix Original, the series—engineered to perfection by writer Tsugumi Ohba and illustrator Takeshi Obata—saw itself undergo many lives. Four live-action movies, a three-part miniseries, and an anime series later, here we are, with director Adam Wingard (The Guest) taking viewers through his creative reinterpretation, which takes Ohba and Obata’s creation Stateside. Of course, it’s not all different; Wingard’s Death Note revolves around a similar set of things. There’s the bored death god Ryuk (Willem Dafoe; John Wick), his latest fancy Light Turner (Nat Wolff; Paper Towns) and the eponymous Death Note that initiates the morbid domino-effect. The notebook has the ability to cause the death of anyone whose name is written in it, a power Light and Mia Sutton (Margaret Qualley) use to enact their own sense of justice on the world. By writing down the names of criminals, they create the persona of “Kira”, an omnipotent serial-killer and friend to vengeful police officers everywhere.
Every protagonist needs an antagonist, however—or is it the other way around here?—and this is what made the original source material truly entertaining. A genius detective known only as “L” (Lakeith Stanfield) helps law-enforcement officials track down the self-styled demigod and bring “him” to justice, introducing a divergent moral dimension where you’re split between Kira and L. But if that’s too much for you, find alternate solace gleefully tracing Ryuk’s obsession with apples.
Desu Nōto, the original Japanese source, was a masterful psychological crime-drama, ripe with steady character development, highlighting the juxtaposition between good and evil in a way that would question your hardcoded interpretation of morality. The Wingard-helmed Netflix Original, however, notably excludes a major chunk of the psychological game of one-upmanship between Light and L, simultaneously making major changes in the characters. Both the manga and anime are extremely dialogue-heavy, which makes its possible adaptation into a mainstream American film a slippery slope for both studios and audiences, who might not be used to the kind of treatment in their weekly film viewing ritual. The American remake, as writer Ohba rightly claims, “[…] both followed and diverged from the original work so the film can be enjoyed, of course by not only the fans, but also by a much larger and wider audience.” It isn’t necessarily meant to please the hardcore fans.
With this perspective in mind, the various changes Wingard and the trio of writers, including Jeremy Slater (Pet) they make to the universe start to make sense. With the number of characters now reduced and the plot simplified so as to fit into a 100-minute time limit, the focus is now solely on high-school-lovebirds Light and Mia, whose adherence to the tropes of a young-adult drama make them immediately relatable. Knowing the director’s filmography, however, there’s bound to be a twist—and this film is no different. Instead of being an easily gullible object, Mia is the one manipulating Light in order to seek out her own version of justice.
What we are left with after the many changes is a vague blend of romance, action-thriller, and fantasy, which only loosely resembles its source.
These changes, predictably, wouldn’t go on to sit well with the fans, who may have hoped for a relatively faithful adaptation—and the sentiment isn’t entirely uncalled for. There is just not enough time for all the complicated dialogue, context and interactions between the dozens of characters. What we are left with instead, after the many changes is a vague blend of romance, action-thriller, and fantasy, which only loosely resembles its source. Despite this, the makers surprisingly manage to capture the essence of what made Death Note such an integral part of the thriller genre without extensively expending time expositing their way through the film.
Execution aside, there’s a lot to appreciate. Stanfield does a great job in trying to capture L’s calm demeanour and odd body language, without coming off as overly strange or wacky. Willem Dafoe is undeniably the star here, with his Ryuk rendered to be as creepy and true to the source as possible. The soundtrack imbued with electronic styles and interspersed with songs like Chicago’s I Don’t Want To Live Without Your Love sets an atmosphere that I would never have imagined in the Death Note universe.
If one were to compare the Netflix Original to the Japanese live-action movie adaptations, the tonal dissonance is easily noticeable. The resultant experience–directors took too many cues from the anime series–feels unsurprisingly like something caught between a live-action cartoon and a serious story. Wingard’s adapation, on the other hand, is a mostly fresh take on the franchise that clearly shows the amount of effort and passion the makers have put into their own creative vision. They wanted to differentiate themselves from the countless iterations already present and, in that, they succeeded. Actor-turned-producer Masi Oka (Heroes) took special care into making sure that the manga authors’ original work was respected. As a fan of Death Note, he maintained a respectable balance between representing the creators’ voices, making sure they understood what direction the movie was taking and, basically, getting okayed before heading into the road not taken.
And from the looks of it, the creators didn’t just okay it; they seem ecstatic. Giving props to Wingard’s “thrilling direction”, illustrator Obata found “the characters […] faithful to satisfying their desires. I’ve always wanted to write a Death Note like this [too]”. Sure, one could go on about the various plot holes and oh-please-delete-this-why-did-you-think-that-was-a-good-idea moments, it is hard not to respect the adaptation for being exactly what it set out to be rather than one meant to pander to the expectations of fans. Once you stop considering it to be a direct adaptation, you’ll end up enjoying a crime-thriller that just so happens to have characters from the Death Note universe. And while the implications to this on the Japanese art forms that have inspired it are meant for another time, there’s still hope to be had. Sample this: if the price we pay for an eventually successful adaptation are movies like Ghost In The Shell and Death Note, then bring on live-action One Piece.
Or not. THAT WAS A JOKE, GUYS! PLEASE DON’T RUIN ONE PIECE! I TAKE MY WORD BACK, I TAKE IT BACK!
